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Lil Quacks Refuge., Christchurch (2026)

30/08/2026

Hey wildling fam!!!!

STOP THE FU***NG PRESS.
ACTUALLY NO.
START THE PRESS.
TURN IT ON.
FEED IT PAPER.
SET FIRE TO THE PRESS.
SOMEBODY GET EGBERT A PUBLICIST.....wait egburt isn't with us anymore.....SOMEONE GET A MEDUIM TO TELL HIM!
MY FIRST CHILDREN’S BOOK IS READY TO BE PUBLISHED.

WHAT.

I have somehow gone from yelling about birds, rescuing feathered criminals and generally living in a permanent state of wildlife-related nonsense…

TO WRITING AN ACTUAL CHILDREN’S BOOK.
A REAL ONE.
WITH PAGES.
AND WORDS.
AND EVERYTHING.
And obviously, because this is me, it is about EGBERT THE OSTRICH.
Of course it fu***ng is.

There was never going to be some calm little woodland bunny politely learning about friendship.
No.
We have EGBERT.

A giant prehistoric looking chaos chicken with the emotional range of a theatre kid and absolutely no respect for normality.

And now this ridiculous little world that lived in my head is about to go out into the actual world for tiny humans to read.

That bit is getting me.

Because kids are magic. Stories are magic. Animals are magic.

And somehow I have shoved all three into one book and now EGBERT IS ABOUT TO BE RELEASED UPON THE PUBLIC.

I am so bloody excited.

I WROTE A FU***NG BOOK.
A CHILDREN’S BOOK.
ABOUT AN OSTRICH.
THIS IS THE BEST KIND OF NONSENSE.

This is the first in a egburt serries, and its......

GLORIOUS!

So not long to go and we will be sharing this with the world!!!!!!

remember teamwork makes the dreamwork!

30/08/2026

Hey wilding fam!

My favourite humans to work with are honestly children and old people.

Children have this weird little magic about them that most of us somehow lose when we grow up.

Everything is important.
Everything is exciting.
A feather is treasure.
An egg is basically national news.
A stick has a purpose.
A weird leaf absolutely needs to go in a witches brew immediately.

My best friend is a four.year old girl who lives next door and we spend an unreasonable amount of time collecting s**t for witches brews, finding eggs, watching animals and investigating things that most grown adults would walk straight past without even noticing.

And I bloody love that.
Because kids still LOOK at the world.

Then I think if you are really lucky, that magic comes back when you get old.

You stop giving quite so much of a s**t about being busy and important and rushing everywhere and suddenly you have time again to watch the birds, notice who is in the garden, talk to the duck like he is a neighbour and become personally invested in some sparrow's entire bloody life story.

I got a message saying a retirement home is making and selling wild bird energy cakes for the Land Ark, and asking if maybe we could organise a time with their recreation team for me to come in and do a talk about what we do and how they can bring more wildlife into their gardens.

And honestly that just made my whole bloody day.
Because THAT......That is the stuff I love.

The very youngest people and the very oldest people both still having enough magic in them to care about a bird in the garden.

One group is just learning how bloody incredible everything is.

The other has lived long enough to remember.

And I genuinely think those are two of the most important groups we can teach if we want wildlife to have any chance at all.

Teach the kids and they grow up carrying it with them.

Teach the older generation and they tell their kids, their grandkids, their neighbours, Doris from three doors down, the lady at bowls, probably half the bloody supermarket if you give them enough time.

That is how it spreads.
Not through some giant dramatic moment.
Through a four year old learning to love bugs.

Through someone in a retirement home hanging a bird cake outside their window.

Through people noticing.
Through people caring.

Through people giving enough of a s**t to make space for wildlife in their little corner of the world.

Teach the youngest.
Teach the oldest.

Between the two of them, they might just teach the rest of us how to give a s**t again.

So heres to you kid! You are the best little muddy princess i know! And I love your mushy face!
And to every older person who is watching the birds living in their beautiful gardens.
And lastly but definitely not least to the beautiful human who started a little thing to get some birds in to a garden for their very own grandma that grew to a whole little village.

Remember teamwork makes the dreamwork!

28/08/2026

EDIT: this particular one is in rolleston, but, it actually goes for all over doesnt matter where you are wildlife nest everywhere.....

Hey wildling fam!

UPDATE ON MOTHER NATURE’S ABSOLUTELY UNHINGED WINTER BREEDING PROGRAM.

Remember how I said birds apparently do not give a single f**k what month it is?

Well, exhibit A.

She has had one baby survive… and that baby is now out there running all over the road like it personally pays rates and owns the subdivision.

Obviously we cannot just take them away because we don’t like where they chose to nest. Mum is there, baby is there, this is their family unit and this is where they have decided to exist, inconveniently, chaotically and apparently directly in the path of traffic.

So now this becomes a human problem.

Please be REALLY careful driving around, especially in newer subdivisions.

These birds will come back to the same nesting areas year after year, regardless of the fact we have bulldozed it, built houses on it, put roads through it and generally rearranged the entire universe around them.

They are basically going:
“This is where grandma nested.”

Meanwhile grandma’s swamp is now a roundabout and a three-bedroom townhouse.

They don’t understand development plans.
They don’t understand road markings.
They definitely do not understand that Kevin in the Ranger is late for work.

They just know this is home.

And right now there is one tiny baby out there learning how legs work, what roads are and presumably making several extremely poor choices per minute.

So this is your reminder from the last post:

LOOK. SLOW DOWN. PAY ATTENTION.

Watch the edges of roads.
Watch grass verges.
Watch empty sections.
Watch around drains, traffic islands and developing areas.

And if you see adult wildlife acting weird, yelling at you, running around or carrying on like absolute pork chops, there may very well be babies nearby.

We have changed their environment at a speed they could never possibly understand.

The least we can do is give them half a bloody chance to survive it.

We have to coexist with acute awareness. Not just notice wildlife when it is obvious, but actually remember that we are sharing the same space. Look before we mow, slow down before we drive through, watch where we walk, and pay attention to the animals telling us they are there. We have changed their world around them; the absolute least we can do is move through it like they still belong here too, this isnt just some nature loving hippy on a soap box this is actually imperative for our own existence in this world, without them there will be no us.

Anyway we will find out how we will go putting some signs out there, in the mean time please share this post! It may get someone thinking about how they drive around on the roads and save some lives.

Remember teamwork makes the dreamwork!

28/08/2026

Hey wildling fam!

Duckling season has apparently decided we were looking FAR too peaceful because in the last couple of days we’ve had TWO tiny yellow criminals arrive.

One is a couple of weeks old and already has the attitude of a divorced man at a council meeting.

The other is only a few days old and is basically a wet pom pom with feet and absolutely no survival plan.

Meanwhile Brett has gone off to do this thing called EMPLOYMENT, which sounds dreadful, so while he is out earning actual money I have been left here with the waterblaster and zero adult supervision.

Fantastic.

So I am currently roaming around the rescue like an unhinged property manager blasting duck s**t, mud, mystery slime and six months of bad decisions off absolutely everything in preparation for breeding season.

Pens? BLASTED.
Concrete? BLASTED.
Walls? BLASTED.

One suspicious bucket that looked at me wrong? ALSO BLASTED.

I have reached that dangerous stage where the waterblaster stops being a cleaning tool and becomes a personality trait.

I’m sorting brooders, cleaning bedding areas, moving things around, finding stuff I bought last season and forgot existed, throwing out things that should have been thrown out in 1847 and repeatedly asking myself why we own seventeen versions of the same f**ken container.

Because breeding season is coming.
And breeding season does not arrive politely.
It does not send a calendar invite.

It kicks the front door in at 9.47pm screaming SURPRISE MO********ER while someone hands you eight ducklings from a drain, a goose has eaten fishing line and there’s a random baby bird sitting in a shoebox eating cat biscuits.

So this year I am TRYING to be prepared.

Which currently means Brett works, I waterblast things with the intensity of someone trying to erase the past, and two tiny freeloaders sit there contributing absolutely nothing except being offensively cute.

The season has begun.

May God have mercy on my mental state.

Teamwork makes the dreamwork!

28/08/2026

Hey wildling fam!

Another donation thank you from what can only be described as an animal rescue being run on donations, stubbornness, petrol fumes and financial delusion.

Honestly you guys absolutely floor me! We were able to buy a week's worth of food for everyone this week!

I keep trying to work out the numbers and every time I do, I arrive at the same conclusion:

the math does not math.
Not even slightly.

The ducks alone go through around THREE 20kg bags of feed every single week.

That is 60kg of duck food a week.

For ducks who bring absolutely nothing to the table except audacity.

They do not work.
They do not pay board.
They do not buy groceries.
They do not contribute to petrol.

They do, however, eat like they have recently inherited land.

Then there is a bag of game crumble every week, wild bird seed, and enough pet bedding to suggest we are running a five-star feathered resort with a deeply concerning housekeeping problem.

Fresh bedding goes down.
Someone s**ts on it.
Someone tips water through it.
Someone drags it somewhere bizarre.
Someone else somehow turns it into an environmental incident.

Excellent.

Then there is petrol.
Because apparently injured wildlife does not believe in convenience.
No one ever messages and says:

“Hi, there is an injured duck sitting quietly in your driveway and the duck told us it already filled your car with fuel.”

No.

It is always:
“There is a goose somewhere near a bridge.”
Which bridge?
“The one with the trees.”

Fu***ng magnificent.

So then we are driving, searching, doing laps, finding the animal, losing the animal, finding it again, getting it contained, going to the vet, going home, going back out again…

and watching the fuel gauge descend like it has been personally offended by our life choices.

And while we are doing all of that, we are also trying to build more rescue spaces, improve what we already have, and somehow get a new rescue vehicle because our current setup is getting ridiculous.

We need more room.
We need better transport.
We need food.
We need bedding.
We need petrol.
We need vet care.
We need equipment.

We need about fourteen additional bank accounts and possibly a wealthy goose with investments.

So every now and then I sit down and think:

Right.

Surely if I calculate this properly, there will be some sensible financial pathway forward.

There is not.
There is only a calculator staring back at me like:

you stupid?

Because the numbers are basically:

Money coming in: hopefully.
Money going out: YES.
Food: yes.
Petrol: yes.
Bedding: yes.
Building: yes.
Rescue vehicle: somehow also yes.

Unexpected animal bulls**t: absolutely fu***ng yes.

And yet…
we keep doing it.
That is where you lot come in.
Because one person donates $5.
Someone else throws in $10.
Someone sends $20.
Someone drops off bird seed.
Someone brings bedding.
Someone helps with feed.

And all those little bits start piling up.

Then suddenly that tiny donation that “probably isn’t much” becomes part of a 20kg bag of food.

Part of a tank of petrol.
Part of the bedding bill.
Part of a new enclosure.
Part of keeping the whole slightly deranged operation alive for another week.

That is why I keep saying every dollar matters.

Because it bloody does.

Rescue is not being held up by one magical rich person descending from the heavens with a novelty-sized cheque.

It is being held up by heaps of people carrying a tiny piece each.

And thank f**k for that.
Because the animals remain completely unemployed.
The ducks remain financially reckless.
The bank account has developed trust issues.
The calculator has started drinking.
Any accountant looking at our plans would simply close the laptop, stand up and quietly walk into the sea.

And somehow…

we are still fu***ng here.
Still feeding them.
Still rescuing them.
Still building.
Still trying to get the vehicle.
Still saying yes when we realistically have no business saying yes.

And a massive reason we can keep doing that is because of every single one of you who helps carry a bit of this beautiful, ridiculous mess.

So thank you.

Seriously.

You are helping keep this whole feral little rescue circus alive.

I just wish I could explain how blessed we are to have so many of you in our lives.

Remember teamwork makes the dreamwork!

27/08/2026

Hey Wildling fam!

WE FOUND HIS MUMA! (Well his muma found us)

Our tiny fluorescent construction worker has a name.

MAXIE.

And even better than that Maxie is going home.

He went missing on Sunday and was found a day to two days later, which means this little dude was actually incredibly lucky. Lorikeets have such high metabolisms and can lose body condition really bloody quickly when they aren’t eating properly. By the time Maxie came to us he was already skinny, so those couple of days out there absolutely mattered.

For most of his time with us he had been pretty shut down.

Safe. Eating. Watching everything.
But not really himself
Then just yesterday he finally started coming out of his shell a little bit.

And last night something happened that pretty much sealed the whole thing.

I said his name.
“Maxie.”

And this bird LOST HIS TINY RAINBOW MIND.

Suddenly he was excited, dancing around, completely lit up and then shoved his head down asking for scratches like YES HELLO YOU HAVE FINALLY SAID THE SECRET PASSWORD, NOW TOUCH MY HEAD IMMEDIATELY.

And that was when it really hit home just how much these little birds know.

Because there were also things about Maxie that only his muma knew and we knew little details about him that had never been publicly posted.

So there wasn’t any guessing.

There wasn’t any “oh yeah that kinda looks like my bird.”

It was incredibly easy to know.
This was Maxie.

His muma come out to collect him today and I cannot bloody explain the joy in that reunion.

But this is important too:
YOU ALL DID THIS.
Every share.
Every comment.
Every person who pushed his post a little further.
Every person who helped connect the dots.

And especially everyone who encouraged his finders to contact us in the first place.

Because without that, Maxie may never have come into care.

Without you guys sharing him everywhere, we may never have found his muma.

And without him getting into care when he did, we may not have had the chance to get some condition back onto him and keep him safe while his family was looking.

Rescue is never just the person who goes out and picks up the animal.

Sometimes it is hundreds of people doing one tiny thing each until somehow, magically, the animal ends up exactly where they are supposed to be.

And this time it worked.

Our skinny little construction site criminal, who escaped me, sat on my shoulder, witnessed Brett punch me in the face and then spent several days wondering what the actual f**k had happened to his life…

has his muma who come back for him!

MAXIE IS GOING HOME.

And when we are dealing with so much pain loss and animals that dont get this chance to be reunited this feels so extra specail!

Remember teamwork makes the dreamwork!

27/08/2026

Hey Wildling fam!

Today’s patient is a paradise duck who apparently decided fishing line/netting was the season’s hottest accessory.

His finders originally thought he was dead.
Like… fully gone. Finished. Departed this mortal realm.

Then SURPRISE.......

Absolutely not dead. Very much alive. Quite offended, actually.

They realised he was tangled up in string/netting and did their best to carefully cut some of it away, but once they found it was wrapped around his wings they very sensibly went, yeah nah, this is where we stop before we accidentally turn a rescue into an incident, and called us for help.

Excellent decision.

Meanwhile, we were sitting in a meeting trying to sort finance for a new rescue vehicle because our current car is officially at the stage where it is too small, too expensive to keep on the road, and held together primarily by determination and financial threats.

So please cue every good thought, prayer, sacrifice to the vehicle finance gods, whatever you’ve got.

Anyway, we abandoned the meeting and shot off toward our newest feathered emergency.

Except before we even got there, old mate apparently had a revelation.

He realised:

1. He was not dead.
2. Most of the string had already been removed.
3. He had places to be.

So he stood up.
Had a stretch.
Flapped his wings.
And the remaining string just… FELL OFF.

SIR.

We were literally racing across town because you had dressed yourself as a hostage and apparently the final rescue technique was just stand up and give yourself a shake.

Absolutely fantastic.

He’s still coming into care because being tangled like that can leave wounds, swelling and damage that isn’t immediately obvious, he definitely has at least some superficial wounds, so we’ll get him checked over, clean up anything that needs attention and make sure those wings are doing exactly what wings are supposed to do. Also, His finders took note of exactly where he came from....

That might sound like a tiny thing, but it is bloody important. If he’s fit for release, we can take him straight back to his own patch, where he knows the area, the food, the dangers and quite possibly has a partner or family wondering where the hell he went.

So massive shout out to the legends who found him, tried to help, called for assistance when things got tricky AND remembered his location.

That is exactly how it should be done.
Meanwhile Paradise Duck is currently giving:
“Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.”

And frankly after today, same mate. Same.

Anyway, if you use bird netting, fishing line, string or anything else that can turn into an accidental wildlife death trap, please dispose of it properly. What looks like one harmless bit of rubbish to us can very quickly become a bird wrapped up, injured, unable to fly or slowly dying. Tiny bit of effort for us, potentially a whole life for them.

Teamwork makes the dreamwork!

27/08/2026

Hey Wildling fam!

Update on our tiny fluorescent construction worker:

Still no owner has come forward.

We’ve had heaps of people sharing him around, people offering help, and even some really lovely offers to foster him until his owners are found and we genuinely appreciate every single one of you.

But right now, he is safe with us, and there is another side to this that I think people don’t always see.

Because while we call this “settling in”, what he is actually doing is dealing with loss, confusion and trauma.

Lorikeets are not colourful little ornaments with WiFi noises.

They are ridiculously intelligent, intensely social birds that form incredibly strong bonds with their people. Their human isn’t just the person who fills the food bowl. To them, that person can be their flock, their safe place, their constant.

And suddenly his is gone.
He doesn’t know that Facebook is sharing his face around.
He doesn’t know people are offering foster homes.
He doesn’t know we’re checking every avenue trying to find whoever he belongs to.
All he knows is that yesterday his world looked one way and now it looks completely fu***ng different.

Lorikeets can grieve hard. That can look like panic and frantic calling, but it can also go the opposite way becoming withdrawn, quiet, lethargic and not wanting to eat. And with lorikeets having such high metabolisms, not eating can become medically serious very quickly.

Then there’s what trauma can leave behind.

Some parrots respond to chronic stress by damaging or plucking their own feathers. Some develop screaming and severe separation behaviours. Some become defensive and bite because when your world has suddenly become unsafe, sometimes the easiest way to stop another person getting close enough to hurt you is to make sure they don’t get close at all.
I really want people to understand that.

A bird can be physically safe and still be absolutely bewildered by what has happened to them.

He’s already gone from wherever home was, to a construction site, onto some random bloke’s shoulder, off into a pile of branches, onto me, witnessed Brett accidentally punch me in the face like we were auditioning for the world’s s**ttest UFC card, and then into care.

The man has had a WEEK.
Actually, probably several.

He currently needs safety. Food. Routine. Quiet. And as few more changes as possible while we keep looking for his people.

And we are still looking.

We’ve had no one come forward, vets aren’t hearing from anyone looking for him, and that worries me. When something like this becomes such a big public interest and yet no one is looking for him, you start to go into long care mode, and start to ask the questions why is no one coming forward, is this a case of lost or not? What is his future?

He is doing ok, hes eating well, is very quiet and confused, but doing ok, he is a very very polite and sensitive wee bird.

If this beautiful little rainbow belongs to you, please contact us. We will need definite proof of ownership photos, identifying information, things that show he genuinely belongs with you.

Because these birds are special.

And whether somebody lost him, he escaped, or something else happened, this little guy deserves for the next decision humans make about his life to be made with him at the centre of it.

For now, construction site Conor McGregor is safe.

A bit skinny.

Probably wondering why his new flock communicates primarily through accidental facial violence.

But safe.

Remember teamwork makes the dreamwork!

26/08/2026

Hey wildling fam!

Today’s adventure started with a PM about a VERY LARGE SEABIRD sitting in the middle of the motorway.

I say large seabird because some people thought it was a albatross while others were sure it was a black back gull.

Which is already a strong opening and which is generally considered a terrible place to have a little sit down and contemplate your life choices.

The finders had tried SPCA, who told them to ring the council. They rang the council.......The council did not answer.

So naturally the next stage of this increasingly unique relay race was:

Ask if anyone knows anyone on fb.
Us being pm, tagged and text.
Which for us meant......

HELLO YES POLICE, THERE IS APPARENTLY A GIANT BIRD ON THE MOTORWAY.

Now before anyone pictures brett slamming on the brakes, throwing the hazards on and me sprinting down the motorway with a net like some sort of low budget Steve Irwin reboot no.

We legally cannot just stop on the motorway and start collecting wildlife like Pokémon.

So we rang Police and asked what the hell we were supposed to do.

They were actually bloody helpful and told us to head to the location, and if the bird was still there, call them again and they could assist us safely.

Perfect.
Off we go.
Rescue mode activated.

Mentally preparing myself to wrestle some enormous angry seabird while traffic screams past.

We arrive.
No bird.
Nothing.
Absolutely f**k all.

We drove around again just to make sure this giant feathery motorway hazard hadn’t moved slightly down the road.

Still nothing.

The ONLY bird we saw was a black-backed gull sitting on a lamppost watching us drive around like complete idiots.

And I swear to god it had the energy of:
“You guys looking for someone?”

Sir.
Was it you?
Did you cause this?
Have we just been dispatched across town because you briefly sat somewhere illegal and then relocated to your surveillance tower to watch the consequences unfold?

I mean come on now, honestly does that feel extremely gull or what?

Anyway, mystery seabird vanished into the void (gull) and we came home empty handed, but it was actually a bloody useful little lesson.

If you ever see an animal on a motorway, do not stop somewhere dangerous and launch yourself into traffic after it.

I love enthusiasm.

I do not love turning one wildlife rescue into four humans, a gull and a Toyota all requiring emergency assistance.

If an animal is creating a hazard on the motorway, Police can help manage the traffic side so rescuers can actually get in safely.

Obviously you can give us a call so we can organize a safe rescue with highway support if needed.

So today we rescued absolutely nothing.
People donated for petrol for something that didnt need rescue.
Did a motorway sightseeing tour.
Possibly got mocked by a black-backed gull. (I know we f**ken did) Just a motorway lap, a missing feathered suspect, and another piece of extremely niche knowledge on who to call for help, added to the giant filing cabinet in my brain labelled:

“SH*T I DID NOT EXPECT TO NEED TO KNOW, BUT APPARENTLY THIS IS MY LIFE NOW.”

Anyway all is well that ends well right?

Teamwork makes the dreamwork!

26/08/2026

Hey wildling fam!

Once again I would like to formally announce that you lot have stopped this entire operation from financially falling down the stairs.

Today I was literally spending our last $40 food allowance on more animal food thinking WELL THIS IS FINE, THIS IS ABSOLUTELY FINE, WE LIVE HERE NOW.

Checked the bank account afterwards and somehow there was another $79 sitting in there from donations.

SORRY WHAT.

Who keeps sneaking money into the animal goblin fund while I’m not looking?!

We also had someone drop off a big bag of bird seed, which was bloody amazing because the birds have apparently unionised and their only demand is MORE SNACKS IMMEDIATELY OR WE RIOT.

And this is what actually matters to me.

Rescues are closing their doors right as breeding season is starting.

That is the reality of rescue at the moment.

Money is harder to get.
Everything costs more.
Food disappears at a rate that suggests I’m feeding several small dinosaurs.
And surviving financially while still saying yes to animals that need help is getting harder and harder.

So every donation genuinely matters.

$5? Matters.
$10? Matters.
Bag of seed? Matters.
Bedding? Matters.
A random $20 appearing while I’m standing in a shop calculating whether ducks technically need to eat every day? VERY MUCH MATTERS.

As they say many hands really do make light work, and all those little amounts pile up ridiculously fast.

Suddenly $5 becomes food.
$10 becomes bedding.
A few people helping becomes another week of supplies.
And somewhere in the middle of all that chaos, another animal gets a chance.

So THANK YOU.

To everyone donating, dropping things off, sharing our posts, chucking us a few dollars when you can, or generally participating in this completely unhinged community-funded animal circus…

You are genuinely helping keep us going.
The animals contribute absolutely nothing financially.
Some of them actively destroy things.
Several scream.
One will probably s**t in a water bowl immediately after I clean it.

And yet somehow YOU PEOPLE KEEP FUNDING THEIR LIFESTYLE.

Absolute enablers.
I bloody love you for it.

Remember teamwork makes the dreamwork!

Lil Quacks Refuge.

30/08/2026

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